James has been sitting absentmindedly looking out to the waves as they crash into the shore. Half a warm Balinese beer next to him on the table, a happy group of passing tourists laugh loudly with each other, obviously a group of friends. James is hurled back to the present as one of them jostles the other and he knocks the table, knocking over the bottle. James turns and looks at them scornfully, they apologise and move on quickly.
James turns back to the shore shaped like a crescent moon and murmurs “ Can't believe I'm sitting here...”
As he sits with a heavy heart, intensely looking at the waves with ferocity and furrowed brow, gradually after a few breaths which feels like lifetimes, he relaxes his face and gains some sense of peace.
It's been quite some time since James has had any sense of peace … since after the incident… Suddenly as a large wave crashes into a rock on the shore, the memory of what exactly brought him to Bali crashes into his serene sense of ease.
He suddenly feels nauseous, a large pit in the bottom of his stomach , a growing pushing sensation, he feels his lungs around his heart, feels as if he’s suffocating from the inside. Before he realizes he’s going to be sick, he’s sick. He throws up at his feet, he’s never been this nauseous, not even after a heavy bender after the incident.
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As the waves of nausea subsides, and he’s able to breathe without throwing up, he stands up unsteadily from the beach lounger, picks up the beer bottle laying in the sand , takes a swig to rinse out his mouth. He swishes the hot flat beer in his mouth as he walks over to the edge of the shore. He suddenly stops, throws the bottle to the side, spits out the beer and angrily says to himself “Shit! What do I have left? Nothing … I have fucking nothing!”
He wipes the back of his hand against his mouth and sees some of the seafood dinner he had earlier. He reaches into the pocket of his shorts for the napkin he took from the bar when he got his 6th beer. As he pulls the napkin, something falls out of his pocket. He looks down and he sees his intelligence agency identification card is at his feet on the wet sand. He picks it up and looks at his name and the special blue seal, a seal reserved for only a certain few.
After inspecting the card for a few moments, he sighs a heavy sigh filled with regret “What a waste!” he shouts. Rage fills his chest and unflinchingly he throws it into the sea.